Tell remained silent, listening intently for anything while Kizael rolled onto the level above them. He backed into the turbolift and looked up, waiting for Kizael’s signal.

It came after three seconds. The felinoid gestured through the open doors, and just as quickly the hand disappeared. The Gossam closed his eyes and let himself fall into the currents of the Force. It flowed through him, removing his weaknesses and magnifying his strengths. With two deep breaths, he opened his eyes once more, and crouched.

He leapt. While in the air, he curled himself into a ball, and once in position, uncurled himself as quickly as if he were a spring. He landed in the doorway of the turbolift in a handstand, and with a silent exhalation, shifted to his feet, careful to do so slowly to keep as quiet as was possible.

Kizael was standing watch over the corridors that branched from the turbolift entrance.

He closed his eyes and felt the Force once more. Silence reigned in this part of the ship, but he could sense a large group of people ahead some distance.

“I sense a large group further ahead,” he reported quietly. “Given what we know, I would assume that to be the holotheatre where the captives are held.”